


Snowflakes

by Curnin_Orzabal



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy Smut, M/M, PWP, Romance, Snow snow and more snow, Winter/Holidays, mcpriceley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5437361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curnin_Orzabal/pseuds/Curnin_Orzabal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor and Kevin enjoying some time together on a wintry day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflakes

He loves to walk outside in the snow; and even though you're uncomfortable in the cold (you warm yourself up with thoughts of Orlando quite a bit), of course you're walking at his side. 

It's nighttime and the sky is the powdery pink from city lights refracted through snow clouds; and while the flakes are tiny and falling only half-heartedly, there is just enough wind to make it almost-bitter. And so you disappear into a vision of Ariel the mermaid splashing around in the Under The Sea ride, flipping her tail in crystal-blue waters, tossing her red hair, smiling at you with those large, happy eyes...

His happy, mischievous eyes hold yours for a moment and then look skyward... at the occasional large snowflake starting to get mixed in with the minute ice shards. He sticks his tongue out and catches one of them; and then he turns and grins at you.  
And you find yourself back to reality, back to this frozen street; and still plenty warm.

You're little kids again, catching snowflakes that are getting bigger and bigger; and of course you're feeling competitive and have to catch the biggest ones. You catch one that's actually a cluster of snowflakes, a whopper; then you stick your tongue out at him, _I win._ But he rolls his eyes at you, still grinning; and then he's telling you to come here and pulling you close and suddenly you can taste all those snowflakes he's caught; and you can feel the sharp cold shock of his tongue in his otherwise warm mouth, and you can feel his arms around your waist and shoulder, and you can feel his body beneath his thick coat; and you're more comfortable than you ever thought was possible.

He can always pull this kind of trump card and win in the end.

You pull away and there are snowflakes in his hair, snowflakes on his coat and it seems his eyes are each a giant, pale-blue snowflake themselves; and you kiss again, deeper this time; and you're reminded again of why he likes this beastly season winter so much.

And once you're inside, you're undressing and lying down in front of the hearth (cliché, you know) on top of a spread-out sleeping bag; and in the firelight his skin is golden, his hair is blazing and his eyes have changed from blue snow to blue flames; _remember blue is the hottest flame of all._ The way he looks at you makes you burn and ache and shiver all at once, your skin tingling even before he caresses you with hands and lips. You submit to his touch, losing yourself in bliss; your gaze trailing down to your parted legs and the red shock of hair between them; and all the consonants have gone from your words because what he's doing to you with his mouth and tongue is something _incredible._ You close your eyes... and then you feel the sting of cold before you see that he's sprinkled a little snow on you; _where did he get that?_

And then you see his eyes laughing again; and you see snowflakes glistening on his naked chest before they perish under the fire's heat; and that lights a fire in you, taking control of the situation, pushing him down and relishing him. He is irresistible: softly glowing skin that tastes faintly of salt; hair that smells of redwood and feels like silk; the curves of his upper thighs that blend fetchingly into a pair of nice hipbones and a shapely little butt; which all feels like a secret you alone know, because you are the only one who sees them now, and you _know_ that no one has ever appreciated them as much as you do.   
Most of all, the sounds he makes as you're savoring him; throaty and drunk with passion, completely belying his air of adorable innocence. 

He is in your mouth and your throat; tasting like salty smoke; and then you are inside him; tight and hot and with a distinctly soft friction, almost like velvet. You come first; and after a few well-placed strokes so does he. And the smile he gives in his afterglow could melt butter, is melting _you_ ; and as you part and he holds you close, you feel the shock of cold on your head, opening your eyes to see that he's sprinkled snow in your hair and his. His eyes are shining with unabashed cheek.

"What, are you _trying_ to start me up again?" you ask. 

"Mmm-maybe," he says, narrowing his eyes and widening his smile.

Not that you would mind if he did.   
But you want to relax first before moving on. To treasure this moment, lying naked under a blanket by the fire, just watching the flames' shadows play out over each other's faces... watching some especially sturdy snowflakes shimmer in Connor's hair as he lays his head on your chest, and gazes up at you with sleepy eyes. 

Knowing he finds you a shelter from cold and storms, and basking in the warmth of his loving heart.


End file.
